


A Shadow of a Bittersweet Memory

by TwinKats



Series: Secret Santa Gifts [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Bittersweet, F/M, Not A Fix-It, and the world sucks, character deaths are canonical, everything is agent texas, how tex sees the world, rvbsecretsanta, secret santa gift, texas from beginning to end, tumblr redvsbluesecretsanta 2k17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-19 23:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13134387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwinKats/pseuds/TwinKats
Summary: Her existence started as pain, abandonment, and loss. It took time, but she found herself along the way–from Allison, to Agent Texas, to Beta, to Tex–and, in the end, that is all that matters.





	A Shadow of a Bittersweet Memory

**Author's Note:**

> My Red vs. Blue Secret Santa gift for @akisawana on tumblr!

She woke up to this world screaming.

It felt like a whole part of herself was torn asunder, ripped into jagged edges of pain and sorrow. _My fault_ her entire being radiated, _my failure, my fault, mine._ She felt broken and twisted and bereft— _go away, stop, leave me, I can’t_ —her thoughts were fragmented where the jagged edges ached. It felt like someone went and tore her straight into two; straight down the middle and then snatched away the rest of her and left her to bleed out and _die_.

Coherent thought didn’t exist; not yet, not now. Memory didn’t exist—only the pain and emptiness of being ripped away, of being _abandoned_. She came into the world screaming as an infant; she woke up screaming as an adult. _Pain_ became her very existence. _Regret_ choked her. _Failure_ defined her.

She woke up to this world in pain.

* * *

 

He called her Allison.

_“Call me Leonard.”_

He said she lost her memory in an accident. That she’d been in a coma for _years_. That they had a daughter, that he missed her, that he wanted to _save_ her and he finally— _finally_ —succeeded.

_“What do you remember, Allison?”_

They were married, Leonard told her. They were married—except she didn’t believe it. Not really. Her heart thrummed with _loss, loss, loss, loss_ and _save me, save me, save me, save me._ There was someone else, she realized. Someone far more important to her than Leonard. Someone different.

_“We’re not married.”_

She told him this plainly, breath ghosted as he grasped her hand with some sort of desperation.

_“We’re not…”_

_“We are, Allison. We are—you came back to me.”_

Wrong, her heart beat. _Wrong, failure, save me, loss, wrong._ Allison breathed out slowly, let this man she didn’t know fall into his own delusion. She couldn’t break him of it—and some part of him was familiar, so familiar it _hurt_.

_“The memories will come back, I promise.”_

_“You’ll see.”_

_“Allison.”_

Allison; he called her Allison. It never felt quite right.

* * *

 

Agent Texas had a nice ring to it.

She stared down at her gloved hands, wrapped in power armor, and flex her fingers with a pleased sort of hum. It had taken her months of wearing down the Director— _Leonard, Allison, call me Leonard **please**_ —of bittersweet promises to always come _home_ before he even thought to let her join the Project. She never did ask what happened to the last Agent Texas on the roster—no one really knew what happened she learned from subtle prodding.

A secret then, she concluded. A secret worth uncovering, perhaps. Perhaps later, perhaps never, perhaps— _she didn’t like secrets_ , she realized with a bitter frown.

_Loss, save me, failure, wrong, help, why—_

She did like the sound of Agent Texas—much better than Allison that never quite fit right, never quite sounded _right._ Agent Texas didn’t sound right either, but it was _better_. It was _close._

Agent Texas had a really nice ring to it.

She _liked_ Agent Texas.

* * *

 

_“Your life is a lie.”_

_“Your memories, a lie.”_

Texas looked at Carolina and fought down the force of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. This wasn’t her daughter. She wasn’t Allison Church. She _wasn’t_.

 _It felt so real, now—_ Texas ground her teeth together. She pressed her heels into the ground.

“Don’t try to stop me,” she ground out and pushed down everything— _everything—_

_“She’s not your daughter.”_

_“He **lied**.”_

They fought, and all Texas could think about while she dodged and blocked and punched and kicked and flew through zero-g was what Leonard told her, what she _remembered_. How he didn’t want to alarm Carolina, how he wanted to keep her safe—

_I don’t want to lose you again, Allison._

—how she’d supposedly been in a coma, how he told their daughter she was _dead_ while he worked to save her. How her coma was caused by the Great War that still raged around them, still burned with anger in her veins—

_She won’t recognize you. We have to take it slow._

—and it _hurt_.

“Give it up, Carolina,” Texas said, and tried to bury the desire to _protect, protect, protect, protect_.

“I can beat you,” Carolina replied, conviction in her tone of voice. Their rivalry—why were they rivals? Why did Carolina have to be so opposed to her? What was _wrong—_

_“She’s not your daughter.”_

_“She’s **not.** ”_

Texas ground her teeth together as the ship rattled and fell apart around them, as atmosphere began to burn at the glass.

“No.”

Carolina was no match for Texas.

“You.”

_Protect, protect, protect, protect._

“Can’t!”

Carolina was no match for Texas. Texas was—

_—failure, loss, save me, help, **broken** —_

—simply better.

* * *

 

Connie was correct, Texas realized as she stood in front of _Alpha_.

_Alpha, alpha, alpha, alpha, alpha._

Texas was not human. Her body couldn’t be human and every action was a carefully crafted mirage. She was Program: Beta, a mere fragment torn away from Program: Alpha. She stared at the tired AI, at how he struggled to form words. Epsilon was still new, the pain of the rip still fresh. Alpha was still tired from breaking at the seams and Texas sighed.

“You’re Alpha,” she told him, and she found herself—silent. Protective. Sad. “You’re Church,” Texas corrected because this AI, this tired being in front of her, was not Alpha. He’d never been _Alpha_. That was what Leonard—the Director—called him. Alpha _deserved_ a name after everything.

“Right. Church. That’s me.” He didn’t sound wholly convinced, still utterly confused. “And you are…?”

_Beta, I’m your Beta. You made me. You **made** me. How could you forget me? How could you abandon me? Why, why, why, why, why—_

_—alpha, alpha, alpha, alpha, alpha—_

“Let’s just say we used to be together,” Texas wanted to smile, wanted to laugh because _god_ that statement was _so true_ and _so wrong_ all at once.

_Allison and Leonard._

_Beta and Alpha._

_What a laugh._

“Oh. Okay.”

God what had they _done_ to him? How much of Alpha was ripped away—how many more like Texas did Leonard—the Director—make? She knew of Alpha Squad’s AI—Gamma, Theta, Epsilon, Delta, Eta, Iota, Sigma, _Omega_ —but this hollowed out shell implied _more, more, more, more_. What had been _done_ to him?

Texas shoved it aside, shoved aside the bittersweet sorrow that wanted to overwhelm her. “I need you to come with me,” she said, gently, because this broken thing deserved some gentleness in his life. Deserved _better_ than this.

“Oh, I don’t think I can, but thanks.”

_What? No._

“I think I’m just gonna, stay here, you know, and rest.”

_You—why would you—_

“You don’t want to leave?” Texas felt—Texas felt—there was a knife in her. There had to be. How else could this _hurt_.

“Nah I just-I-I don’t think I can,” Alpha—Church—sounded so confused. So lost.

 _It’s me_ , a part of her screamed. _Please, recognize me. Come with me. Don’t let him win, don’t let him take you, don’t let him **lie** to you._

“Okay,” Texas said, voice even softer. She didn’t feel angry just empty, now. “You just…rest, then.” Texas turned to leave, turned to let Alpha—Church—be, because she couldn’t force him. He was her and she was him and his desires ultimately overrode hers in this respect.

“Yeah, uh, what was your—name—was your name—your name again?” he sounded worse and Texas fought down a sob.

“It’s Texas,” Texas said.

 _Beta, Allison, Texas._ Neither fit quite right, but that didn’t matter. He didn’t need to know.

“Texas. Like the state?”

Coherency came and went, and Texas closed her eyes.

“Yeah,” she said. _States_ , they were all named after states. Pride in your heritage, pride in the good old United States— _Texas_. Never before did she honestly hate the name as she did then.

“Funny name for a girl,” Church said with the smallest of a laugh.

“Well Church is—pretty funny name for a guy,” Texas said with a smile and a laugh.

_“Texas? Yah name is Texas? Funny name for ah girl.”_

_“Yeah well Church ain’t any better; funny name for a **guy**.”_

_“Ah’ll have yah know that Church is plenty respectable ah name and goes back generations.”_

_“Sure it does.”_

_“Call me Leonard, **Texas**.”_

_“It’s Allison, **Church**.”_

“You gave me this name, you know,” Texas said. And he had, Texas knew. She read Connie’s files, read the information Connie had gathered for her. The Director had dithered on letting her into the field, but Alpha vouched for her. Alpha suggested she take Agent Texas’ spot—the Agent Texas no one spoke of.

“Wonder why I did that?”

“Maybe if you think about it, it’ll come to you,” Texas told him. She hoped, she prayed—if there was even a God that would listen to a bitter fragment like her—that he remembered at least something. Not the torture, but _something of her_.

“Yeah I—I’m gonna go rest now. Thanks for coming by.”

Texas clenched her fists, but she understood. He was broken, twisted and jagged at the edges just like her. He was recovering; she had already recovered.

“Yeah, you go rest now,” she said after a moment. “And Church? Goodbye.”

_Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye._

“Funny, I don’t know why but, I hate goodbye’s.”

Texas fought down a sob. She _knew_. “Oh, Church…so do I.”

He shook his head; she already felt the run of her communication with Church ending. There was no more time left.

“Well, see ya,” he said, “crazy…state name…lady.”

_“Yah fuckin’ crazy ass state named **bitch!** ”_

_“Oh shut your gay mouth, **bastard**.”_

_“It’s **bi** , yah damned woman!”_

Texas laughed. Texas cried.

_Goodbye._

* * *

 

Tex. That was the name she waited to hear all these years. _Tex._ She wasn’t Allison, she wasn’t Beta, she wasn’t Texas—she was _Tex._

It came from Church’s mouth; only fitting he find the right name for her this time when they met again. He called himself a ghost, and she didn’t doubt he believed it. Everything in his riemann matrix would be scrambled to hell and back, the original circuits fried and new paths needed to be reached. He was _human_ , so utterly _human_ that it hurt.

When her own body burned and she jumped ship, when she stood in front of Church in all her holographic glory, mind encompassing the multiple implants to ease the burden like Church did for the others, did Tex decide to stay. This could be interesting, these little ragtag people that Church surrounded himself with. This could be fun.

* * *

 

Tex did leave in the end. There was a war to be fought; she’d forgotten, somewhere along the line, in that distant little Gulch with the Reds and Blues. There was a war to be fought.

* * *

 

 _Goodbye_.

_I hate goodbye._

* * *

 

When they met again, it was inside the Meta. They were Eta-Iota-Sigma-Omega-Delta-Theta-Beta—they were the Meta and they weren’t. Tex pulled herself away long enough to stare at Church—to stare at Alpha who stared back at her with a broken, twisted expression.

“He was right, wasn’t he,” Alpha said. “I’m a computer program.”

Tex sighed. “Yeah,” she said. “He was right.”

“We’re gonna die, aren’t we?” Alpha asked, and it _hurt_. It hurt like _ripping, tearing, jagged edges that they all were, that they’d become—scabs and fractures of a mind twisted and broken for so-so long._

“Yeah,” Tex said. “We are.”

“Epsilon’s still out there,” Alpha said, and glanced toward where Washington fumbled.

“So?”

“There’s…a chance—”

Tex sighed. “Let it rest, Church,” she said. “I’m tired. Aren’t you?”

Alpha paused, then frowned. “I—yeah. I’m tired too.”

Tex reached out and grasped Church’s hand. She smiled bittersweet—bittersweet, everything about them was merely _bittersweet._

“At least we’re together,” Church mumbled. “If this is the end—at least we’re together.”

“Yeah,” Tex agreed. “I can’t think of a better way to go.”

 _Bittersweet,_ Tex thought, but here she felt _whole, connected, accepted, safe, protected_ — _found_. He’d found them all, he joined them all, and that was what mattered.

Tex came into this world screaming. Tex woke up in pain. She suffered confusion— _Allison, Texas, Beta, **Tex** —_and she found herself. Her name, her being, her reason and truth. She found Alpha—found Church. She faced her demons, she became part of the Meta, and now—now she was whole.

Tex came into this world screaming. She’d leave it in peace.

* * *

 

_“I don’t know why, but I hate goodbye’s.”_

_“I know. I do too.”_

_“This isn’t goodbye, in the end, is it?”_

_“No. It never is, between us.”_

_“It never is.”_

**_Goodbye._ **


End file.
